if only i'd been there
by byebye-babeh
Summary: Annabelle Lennox was the one thing on this Earth worth fighting for, but when her life is taken away, Ironhide is left to wonder: what if i'd been there?


_**if only i'd been there**_

* * *

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

* * *

It's amazing how it's always the little, _stupidly_ minute actions that last only brief seconds can determine whether someone lives or dies. It always seems if someone had taken an extra second or two to say a proper goodbye, or if they had left an extra ten seconds earlier for their car that decides whether or not you will ever get to tell them you love them one more time. In the whole scheme of life, it is only a few brief moments that truly matter. But sometimes, it takes those few brief moments to make you realize that if you'd done something differently, then maybe -- _just_ maybe -- they would still be with you.

Perhaps if someone had been there to look after you, you would be alive. Maybe if you hadn't run that red light to pick up your other friend, you'd be breathing sweet oxygen. Maybe if you hadn't taken that extra minute to put in your earrings, you'd be in your bed where I could watch you. If you had done one thing differently, you'd be here, Annabelle. Just one thing, and you'd be here.

But you aren't. No, you're stuffed into a box just like your father. And right now, you're mother is weeping. She's more than weeping -- she's crying her soul out as Ratchet said. She's refused to sleep for a day now, but I cannot blame here -- I haven't recharged since I heard the news. But perhaps if I recharge I'll wake to the morning sun, and find out that this has all been a bad nightmare. And when I wake, I'll check up on you as I have done every morning. I'll watch you for a few moments, and I'll admire you as I always have done. Who knows, maybe I'll watch you till you begin to stir. Like always, I'll whisper, "Good morning, Annabelle." Then I'll leave you to wake alone like I've done every morning. I'll assume my earth alternate form, and I'll wait patiently for you to come out and take the "old-junker" (which is me) to wherever you want to go.

Like always, I would cherish the moments I got with you. I would pay extra attention to the sound of your beautiful voice as you sang along to ACDC. Of course I would play with the radio stations just to hear you laugh. I would cherish the light pat you would give me. As always, I would smile as you would say, "I swear you have a mind of your own."

Then I would sigh, wishing I could show you how much of a mind I have. And if I felt like it, I would continue to play with the radio stations until you finally turned off the radio. Then on cue you would begin to sing songs that you remember. Your mother might not have considered your voice to be perfect, but as I would listen to you, I would disagree. In my eyes, your voice could not be any more perfect.

But I won't wake up from this nightmare because this nightmare _is_ reality. And as your mother makes another painful wail, I too feel her lost. I slowly back out of her view and transform. I have to check. I have too. As I round the corner of the house, my spark begins to dwindle. The light that is usually lit is not there. I peeked into the flawlessly clean room only to find it _ghost_ empty. My optics searched for a sign of you, but you're no where to be seen. You're gone like dust in the wind.

I hear the door creak.

I move out of view as your mother stumbles into your room. I hear her whisper to you. Like me, maybe she hopes that if she searches hard enough you'll come back. I hear her throw the pillows against the wall. The sound of a lamp shattering makes me wince. I can feel my hands become fists. Your mother shouldn't be going through your room like that. No, she should be leaving it as you had left it -- perfect. Who does she think she is!?

I peek into your room once again. I see your mother curled into a ball. She's holding a picture of you next to her chest. It's the one of you at your graduation -- you know where you're giving your speech as valedictorian. Suddenly she looks up at the window, and I duck. I quickly walk back to my place in your driveway, and transform back into _your_ old junker.

"Hello?" Sarah calls. "Who's there?"

I want to reply back, but like always I have no courage to speak. It's like my vocal processors don't work, and then my CPU goes dead. So I remain silent as she calls out once again. And I always will be silent. To you and your mother, I'm nothing more than truck your dad brought home from the war. But to your father, I was _your_ silent protector.

And in your father's eyes, I've surely _failed_.

He gave me one job to do, and as long as I did it, I could stay at your house. But now I have failed. I start my engine and head to the only place where I can go -- your grave.

* * *

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

* * *

It's amazing how the world seems to go on. It seems as if it should stop and just float there, but it doesn't. People are laughing in the streets, and young couples are kissing. How can everyone be so ignorant of your loss? Surely they can't ignore the fact that somewhere out there a mother is crying for the loss of her only child. Maybe like me, they don't want to accept it. Or maybe, they _don't_ care. . .

Most likely, they were like you -- they _think_ they were _invincible_.

But _no one's_ invincible.

I'm sure that when you went out that Friday night, you thought you would come home always -- a little drunk, but not enough to catch your mother's attention. You'd have the taste of cigarettes on your tongue, but the smell would be gone by tomorrow morning. After all, you only did it on weekends when you were stressed. I'm so sure you thought that Friday night would be like the others before. But it wasn't. I should've known something was wrong when you're friends picked you up. It should've been a red flag to me, but it didn't even register as a threat to me. No, I thought this would be like all the other weekends.

And it wasn't until 11:21 P.M. when the hospital called your mother that we knew something was wrong. From there, it went downhill.

Just like your mother, I was shocked to hear the news. You were driving you're friends to a nightclub in the neighboring town when you were blind sided by a trucker who ran a red light. It seemed everyone else was okay. Kathy had suffered three broken ribs, a concussion, and a broken radius. Lauren managed to get away with a broken rib and a bad headache. Mercedes broke her tibia, fibia, and femur. She had a punctured lung from one of her broken ribs, and managed to break her arm in three places. But you -- you took the brunt of it.

Five busted ribs (one of which punctured your lung), a shattered arm, broken bits of your facial skull, and a femur broken in two places. Your tibia and fibia was fractured along with your foot. But worst of all, you had bleeding of the brain. Despite the injuries, the doctors acted optimistic, but why wouldn't they? What are they going to tell a mother who's already lost her husband and is about to lose her daughter?

At least you put up a fight before you passed away. You always were a fighter, even if you claimed to be a lover. You were like your father in so many ways, Annabelle. Strong, resilient, and caring. Just like your father, you would give anything to help someone else out. But you had your mother's gentle touch. It's no wonder why you were adored. I would've adored you openly too, but I couldn't. I didn't want you to be scared of me. So I remained silent, admiring you from a distance.

I roll towards the site where you have been buried. It's beautiful, but sad. The old willow tree that over looks the small lake of wildflowers is ironic. Here is one of the few places where the sadness of death overshadows the tranquility and beauty of life. Using the star and moonlight, I make my way to your grave. You're buried next to your father. Both of you have fresh flowers on your grave stones. I feel guilty for not bringing you a flower, but I have nothing to offer you -- not anymore. _You_ took the one thing I had to offer you -- my silent protection.

I sit down beneath the willow tree, and I begin to talk to you. I tell you about all the times I've watched you. I retell the tales that everyone but me has forgotten. I confess about the times I've purposely opened my passenger door just so that I can hit a boy that isn't worth your time. And I find myself laughing about all the times you've said something funny. I laugh at all your little quirks, not because I hate you but because I _love_ you. I loved you _so_ much and you never knew it. And I laugh and laugh, trying to make up for all the times I've been too scared to laugh with you. And too soon, my laughs turn into cries. I find myself asking, "Why did you let go Annabelle? Why?"

It's ridiculous that I'm crying over someone that I've never spoken too -- over someone that probably _never_ knew I existed -- but I can't help it. You were the light in my eyes -- the person who made me smile, and made me wish I could be a human just for one day. No matter what bad mood Ratchet, Bumblebee, or Prime put me in, you could take it away. You always knew how to make me smile. And for you Annabelle, I would do anything. I wish I could be the one dead right now. I wish it was me who took the hit. I wish that I could've told you I loved you before you left.

You were like my daughter, Annabelle, and just like any parent I weep for the loss of my child. But unlike your mother who has memories of what it feels like to hold you and kiss you goodnight, I have only dreams and what if's. And it leaves me wondering, what if?

What if I had been the stronger one, and shown myself? Would you accept me?

What if I had been the one to show you all the things you father never did?

What if I had been the one you would've laughed with?

What if I had been the one to help you relax, and not the alcohol and cigarettes?

What if I'd been there?

Would you still be here?

* * *

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

* * *

**A/N:** now that that is done, time to go work on my other stories.

and sorry for such a sad story, but it wouldn't leave me alone until i wrote it. i listened to this really sad song and it made me really depressed -- tears of an angel by ryandan


End file.
